REWRITTEN Return of the Phoenix
by Flippant Wisdom
Summary: In a time where fear is on the rise, James Potter finds himself alive and having to contend with a son that's falling apart, old friends who don't believe him, and a Dark Lord who has many plans for him.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N 12/13/2005_**: For the first time in a LONG time, I am giving this story another rewrite. I know that the fifth book has come and gone, as has the sixth, but I honestly had no desire to ever write on this story, at least not in it's current form. Then, one day, I finally had the brainstorm I wanted for this story. Sadly, it required me to start a rewrite. More work than I wanted to put into a story that was over four years old. So I made a deal with myself: if someone made a 200th review, I would rewrite it. I got my 200th review.

In honor of _MysticTears_, I present the rewritten prologue and beginning to the rewrite. I hope it even pleases the unpleasable _flowerfunleah_.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any familiar characters do not belong to me. All other characters and plot (semi in the plot case) belong to me.

**Prologue**

The rain softly pattered outside, the murmur of life. A cool breeze wafted through the window carrying the scent of fresh moist air. It was a shame, really, that the air never made it to one of the occupants of the room, for she would have loved to have smelt it.

As it was the sound of the rain was lost under the popping of the boiling cauldron, and the scent to the foul one of the solution within the cauldron.

Jenna Whimfy scrunched her nose against the stench, wondering why she'd even bothered to leave the window open. There was only a single window in the entire room, and it was enchanted to never allow any air _out_, even though the air could come in. It was why she'd chosen this room, in fact. Still she'd hoped the air coming in would freshen the up the smell she knew was coming. Sadly, it did no such thing.

Beside her, a thick leather bond book laid open on a short coffee table she'd pulled from some random room. It was old, the book. She was suspicious it was older even than her own family line (and her family line was ancient.). The words were faded, made darker through a spell, and handwritten. She didn't think had opened the thing in centuries let alone look at it, before it had been doctored about month ago. It even had quite a few spells holding the book itself together.

The book was open to the particular potion-spell she was currently trying with unknown success to make. She'd been working on it for little over a week, ordered by a superior to make the potion, and had been order to secrecy. She was suspicious her someone had gone so far as to alter her memory, because she couldn't remember _who_ had come to her and sworn her secrecy.

A violent sputter from the concoction in front of her snapped her to attention. She coughed and cursed. She wished she knew what to expect from this thing, but from what she remembered, not even the operative knew. She couldn't figure it out, even after reading and re-reading the formula. She didn't know if she could complete the it successfully. She wouldn't even have gotten involved with the project, if the project hadn't come from the top. And when the Dark Lord wanted something, the Dark Lord got it.

The potion turned a neon green, and she was careful to contain her sigh. It was a good sign. She was near completion.

She turned to the book, keeping an eye on the potion. _Blood of a man_, the potion needed blood, and quite a lot at that. She shook her head at the cliche of it. _All_ dark spells seemed to call for blood these days. Nevertheless, she reached over to a table; taller than the first, and littered with potion bottles. She took hold of the neck of a vial, holding it like she was holding something disgusting and vile. The rusty red liquid within sloshed with the movement.

_Men are so touchy_, she thought as she poured the liquid in, ignoring how it seemed to ooze instead of flow. _What's so wrong about wanting a bit of someone's blood for a potion I know nothing about. And to call me **mad**!_ The potion turned a light gray. It didn't say exactly what color gray it was supposed to turn, so she took it as another good sign.

Next step, _flesh of a woman_. Jeanna sighed again, and rolled up her selves. She left the potion for the first time since starting to approach the only occupied corner of the room. Pressing herself against the wall was a woman, older than Jeanna's thirty-one years, whimpering and sobbing. Jeanna had had to restrain the woman after the woman had attempted to try and gauge her eyes out.

First the man, and now the woman. Everyone had become far too touchy and clingy to life lately. They should be happy. They were going to make the Dark Lord happy. And besides, the woman was muggle, she'd be dead soon anyway when the above mentioned Dark Lord got rid of all the filth.

She didn't waste any time slitting the woman's throat. The woman hadn't stopped gagging when Jeanna took a slice out of woman, the cut coming out jagged because of it. Jeanna hissed at all the blood. It was a pity the spell didn't need blood of _woman_. This one certainly had more than enough...

She cleaned herself with a simple wave of the wand, and stepped back up to the potion, which she dropped the flesh into. The potion reeked even fouler than before, and she fought with the rising bile in her throat to read the next step: _bones of the diseased_.

She picked up the little, wool pouch that had been sitting as a paper weight holding one side of the book's pages down. Inside, she knew there was a single pearl white tooth. Like the potion, the operative hadn't been able to tell her who it belonged to. Ignoring the growing feeling of unease, she dropped the tooth into the potion.

The potion turned a pitch black the instant the tooth touched the surface. The gentle breeze from outside stilled for the first time in hours. Jeanna, shivering, rubbed at her arms as the room's temperature dropped drastically. Every breath she released puffed in a momentary cloud of moisture.

She was finally to the last step. For better or worse, this is what it all came down to. Dipping her wand at the concoction and beginning to stir, she fought to keep her teeth from chattering as she said:

"Привидения того из тех умирали перед мной, я вызываю к вам для того чтобы возвратить одно к это тело принадлежит. Я предлагаю это дыхание для того чтобы быть дыханием жизни и даю жизнь к этому человеку."

Silence.

Jeanna didn't breath. Time itself seemed to stand as still as the breeze as the words came to a halt. In that single, seemly eternal moment, she feared the potion was a failure.

Then the moment shattered. The breeze from outside came back with a vengeance. She cried out, and shielded her face with her arms. The typhoon easily tossed the little vials to the floor. The tables, no match for the strong wind, hit the floor with a clatter of wood splintering and glass shattering. If the potions maker's eyes had been open, she might have seen the almost nonexistent wisp of smoke. Might have seen how it circle her - once, twice - before doing the same to the potion. She might have seen it disappear into the murky liquid of her questionable potion. But her eyes were closed behind her covered face, and she didn't see.

Abruptly, the silence returned.

Jeanna didn't move, even when she felt the breeze; a gentle caress that came as an innocent child would. As if it hadn't just destroyed every glass piece in the entire room. Even the murmur of the rain didn't stir her.

A shifting sound, the sound of something _sliding_, like flesh on rock, finally stirred her. She bought her arms down, expecting something wicked from the potion; the potion itself: a failure and her death signature; a _bird_. She could have given a rather long list that her mind was thinking up in her moment of anticipation that she expected to see.

What she did see would never have made it. Sure, a _body_ might have eventually popped up on her list of expectations, but the naked body of a full grown man that looked perfectly healthy and like all the other...

She stared a long moment at the back of the man, curious what she had just brought upon herself. Black hair; nice muscles from what she could see, but that didn't tell her anything other than the person _was_ male. Had she conjured the devil? Or something like him? It didn't seem beyond the things she would expect from the Dark Lord. As she pondered her eternal damnation, the man turned and she got a look at his face.

_Jeanna had risen the dead_.

And not just any dead: The dark lord had had her raise _James Potter_.

Her mind froze again, as she stared in disbelief at the person - the _dead_ person - before her. It didn't seem to connect for a full thirty seconds that it was impossible for the person to be dead, as he was breathing, but her mind simply refused to believe it. Every rule in the book said it was impossible.

And yet that was what the potion-spell did.

"...Where... am I?"

It took her a moment to realize that the man was speaking. Another to get her mouth to catch up. "What?"

He glared at her shoulder. It didn't seem he could really see her. Again in his raspy, whispery voice, he asked; "Where… am I?"

She blinked. Then tilted her head to the side as if she were considering answering the question or not. She found no harm in it. "Godric's Hollow."

The man squinted at his surroundings, his face scrunching up with the effort to see. Finally he settled for glaring in her general direction. "What did you... do to me? Where... are my clothes?"

Jeanna couldn't help but snort. The final piece of the puzzle falling into place. The tooth; the grizzly potion; the clothing... All of it made sense. It was finally the thing to completely snap her out of her amazement. "Nothing terrible, Mr. Potter." She hollowly reassured, as she retrieved the robes and shoes from the bag by the door. "In fact, I did the best thing that happened to you in fourteen years." She dropped the bag in his lap. "Get dressed."

She turned her back to give him a little privacy. She could hear him stumble, presumably to his feet and fumble with his clothes. She turned back around just as he was getting the shoes on.

"Who are... You?" His voice was getting a little stronger, she noted. She didn't really care. He was alive like the Dark Lord apparently wanted, and so would she be tomorrow, when this was over.

"I'm going to hand you a port key. Take it or I will force you to take it." She commanded, ignoring her tiny beginnings of a guilty conscience. Why did she care what happened to this man? She didn't know him, not personally. She had no love for him, and he wasn't anyone special. This was just another job. Another day she would survive until the end of the war.

_But it's not the same._

She bit her lip. No, she had to admit. Never had she seen the face of her victim. Never had she _given life_ to another though her potions. _Damn it!_ she growled to herself. _It's not the same as giving life to a child! _He wasn't hers. He wasn't her responsibility. Yet she found herself thinking in such a manner; a warped manner at that. She had given this person his life back, and she was handing him over to someone who would use and kill him.

Slowly, she held the port key, a stone as common as the ones outside, and couldn't stop the thought: _I'm sorry. Nothing personal._

**_To be continued_...**

(Before I start getting the hate mail) **_Note on the translation_**: I don't speak russian, I don't pretend to. All I did was put in it the Babel Fish translator and push: translate. This is what it was meant to say: _Ghosts of those of those who have died before me, I call to you to return the one to whom this body shall belong. I offer this breath to be the breath of life and give life to this man._ If anyone would like to translate it into russian for real, I would be thrilled. In the mean time, please review!


	2. Chapter 2

(Ack! I nearly had a heart attack. Since when does Works have errors! At least I only lost the A/N and such and not the ending... Only... TT)

**_A/N_**: Omg... I'm, like… three weeks late... I really did mean to have this done by Christmas, but sadly it just didn't happen. For some reason I like to post around the 12th (this will most likely be posted the 13th. Does that mean that the next one won't be out until the 14th? oO;)

_**Thanks to Crysania Fay for betaing. If there's still something wrong-**_

_**Blame her. XD**_

**_Warnings_**: None that I can think of, besides character death, but then we already knew these character were dead, so I don't think that counts.

**_Spoilers_**: Only if you've never read the 5th book or the series in general. If you haven't… where have you been all this time? XD

**_Important Note_**: Since I know someone will point this out if I don't: the events of Halloween 1981, like my original version, are based off the mess up in book 4. I thought it was cool and went with it. You'll understand the moment you see it.

Annnnnnnnnnnd, without further ado:

**Chapter One:**

_**Meeting Again After a Long Absence**_

A hooded figure approached the large, wooden door. Towering over the figure, the giant castle was but a large, black figure in the growing dawn. The pin-prick flags on the towers, barely visible to the figure, as they swayed in the early morning breeze.

The figure pushed the large, oak door open with ease. Perhaps it was magic that allowed such large door to open so easily, or perhaps it was simple muggle engineering. The figure sadly gave the little regard as the being entered.

This person had other things to think of than to admire doors, for it wasn't often that news of the likes that this being carried made it's way into the little humble school of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

No one could say that Albus Dumbledore wasn't a busy man. With a school to run and a war on the horizon, he hardly had time to worry about uninvited guests. The thought rarely even crossed his mind, although they sometimes tended to cross his doorstep.

Little suggested that anything interesting would happen on that lovely morning. The dawn had just broken after a particularly nice summer shower. He could smell the damp, clean air when he woke. He couldn't resist taking the deep breath he had taken first thing upon sitting up. It did indeed seem like it would be a nice morning. A perfect way, even, to go into the last stretch of July.

He was working on the last of the schools new roster when he heard the knock. He paused a moment, almost as if trying to remember if someone had announce they would come today, and he had forgotten. His snowy white brows came together, and then released. A moment later, he called in a loud voice one would be surprised such an old man could support, "You may enter."

The white brows never twitched as the figure entered, nor did the piercing blue eyes ever flicker. Nothing gave way the once-teachers curiously - nor his caution. It was not often that people arrived on Albus Dumbledore's office doorstep unexpectantly and did not carry dangerous or grievous news.

The figure stepped into the room, the door closing behind him or her when he or she pressed lightly on it. It soft _click_ signaled it closing. Dumbledore watched the person, his eyes following ever movement calmly, as if this was an old friend, and not a potentially dangerous. There was little in the figure's body language to suggest such a thing, but that was never an indication of one's true intentions.

"Won't you remove your hood, sir?"

The figure - a man, if one trusted Dumbledore's word - raised his head in a slight jerk, perhaps of surprise? A shake, and then the being was reaching up to grasp the edge of the robe. It was a moment that, were it in a muggle movie, it would have slowed down for effect of the viewers. A moment meant to shock and surprise, and even delight the viewers. But this wasn't a moment in a movie, so it passed in a mere flick of the wrist. The shock however was not lost. Dumbledore, sadly though, would have disappointed the viewers if they wanted a reaction by not even batting an eyelash.

"Ah, James. Please sit. We have much to discuss obviously."

James Potter, for that was the only person it could be, watched his former headmaster and friend in some amount as he sat down. "You know it's me?"

The headmaster pressed his fingers together lightly and leaned his elbows on his desk. "I believe that _you_ believe that you are James Potter. Whether that is true or not remains to be seen." The man gave the barest of smiles, and added, "And you are still a terrible legilimency."

James couldn't help but smile at that. It was fair enough that the man was even speaking to him. He was suddenly glad that he had gone along with this idea. "I suppose I should explain then?" When the older man remained patiently quiet, James took a deep breath and began.

_Flashback_

_It had been a quiet day when James and Lily had been summoned into a meeting with Dumbledore. A nice day really, even after they were told that the couple along with their year old son would be going into hiding until the Dark Lord himself lost interest with this latest hunt or he was stopped. The family had taken it into stride, determined not to let the fear and despair that hung around every waking moment bring them down._

_A month had passed, the longest one of the couple's lives, and it seemed that they would make it through to live the rest of their lives in some semblance of normal. But a story like this, one told so often, could only, and did only end one way. Night fell and tragedy flew in before anyone could see it coming._

_Voldemort himself had shown at their doorstep. James had known he couldn't escape. Knew that staying behind meant certain death, but to a man desperately trying to save his family, it was natural. If they lived, he could rest in peace._

_Voldemort hadn't shot to kill. Not right away. First, he simply was content to 'play', like he had all the time in the world and Lily wasn't upstairs trying to escape with the child that could one day be his undoing. It was only when James could barely stand, and was covered in burns and scratches and could barely see straight, let alone fight, that Voldemort cast the curse to end his life._

"Know that your family died because of you, James Potter. Know that you could have saved them, but you failed."

_And he had. As Voldemort cast the curse, James could only curse himself verbally with his failure._

_The curse had hit - he could feel the impact, but as James stumbled, he was astonished that he was still alive. Had the Dark Lord somehow missed, despite the very obvious impact? James could only stare in astonishment at the vile creature before him, his surprise very obvious._

_And then the room tipped and deposited him firmly, bonelessly on the floor. He didn't have the strength to move. He couldn't get back up, and he was steadily growing weaker._

_Just barely in his view, the Dark Lord laughed. _"Listen, James Potter. Listen very carefully, and you might be able to hear your family's last moments before you die."

_James had wanted to shout out, to cry out that Voldemort was coming for Lily - he could still hear her upstairs, why wasn't she gone? - and Harry upstairs but he could barely find the power to breathe and stay awake._

_It's a terrible thing to hear the slaughter of one's loved ones and be helpless to stop it. It's an even worse thing to know that you could have saved them from that fate and you didn't. James listened over the sound of his failing breath as Lily's begged and pleaded, listened to the heart wrenching _thud_ that signified the end of her life. Tears came unbidden as he waited for the death of the most beautiful thing he had left in this world. Waited for the crying to stop and the silence of death to claim the house._

_The crying didn't cease. James couldn't help but cling to the fact that as long as the crying carried on, Harry was still alive. In his last muddled moments, he heard something much more hair-raising than his son's dreaded death. The shrill shrieking of something that sounded akin to a banshee, only much worse. He didn't have time to contemplate it, for it was almost like a death toll._

_Before the shrieking was finished, James Potter was dead._

_End Flashback_

Silence.

Neither man spoke as they both digested the news. James' eyes remained on the floor, his mind tumbling around with strange and somewhat confusing thoughts. There was a sense of shame that lingered in his heart, but it was no where near where one might have thought it should be. He didn't remember his time in death, the years having passed and left him with no memory of it, but there was a lingering feeling that what had happened had been what should have happened and he had excepted it long ago.

"He didn't kill you right away."

Dumbledore's heavy tone brought James out of his thoughts. James merely nodded. There was nothing he could say on the subject, and he knew that the man needed a moment to collect himself. It was a very hard thing to accept, even if the person who'd had suffered said fate was somehow alive and well and right in front of you.

The older man sighed, the younger seeing that although the man's control was back in full he seemed a little frailer. "It does little to dwell on such events," was that said for James' benefit, or for Dumbledore's? "But let us focus for a moment on _why _it happened. Tell me, James, who was your secret keeper?"

James stiffened unconsciously. There was a test in this. He could sense it as easily as he breathed. "Peter Pettigrew."

Something changed in Dumbledore's hard stare. It seemed to soften, sadden almost. It made the dark haired man wonder what he had missed or forgotten during his death. He made note to question what had become of his friends both former and still.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, "Please continue. What is the next thing you remember?"

James nodded, and told of - rather impossibly - coming to on the floor of Godric's Hollow, and the young woman who revived him.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp. "It was a woman? Do you know who she was?"

James shook his head. "I never saw her face." _I can't see without my glasses_. Silence followed again. The ticking of the numerous clocks filling the air for several tick-tocks before their owner told him to continue.

_Flashback_

_He was so confused; disoriented. It was hard to stand and his lungs ached with each breath. It felt like the muscles had never moved a day in their lives, and it was a struggle to force them to cooperate. His thoughts were too disoriented to properly deal with the fact that he was cold, nearly blind, and probably in a lot of danger._

CRASH

_The port key hit the floor and a small chip broke off and skittered somewhere unnoticed. _

_James' head jerked in the direction of the noise and nearly flinched when his neck protested the sudden movement._

"_Get out of here._"

_James couldn't quite manage a frown. "Get…out?" He didn't like how his tongue still felt heavy and dry. Didn't like how even just the little bit of speech that he'd done made his jaw ache. It didn't really matter yet that he was an almost blind man, weak from rebirth, and was being told to run out into the world as such._

_The woman - for that was what gender he guessed she was from the sound of her voice - fell silent. There was a rustle of cloth and in the blink of an eye, literally, the room sharply came into focus. James blinked, adjusting to the sudden ability to _see_. The room, now that he could see it, looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen it. It was almost like he was seeing a neglected childhood home for the first time in decades. And neglected it was; papers, wood shards, glass, and other such items wer strewn all over the small room._

_He didn't hear her move, didn't hear what must have been her scramble for the door. He only heard the slam of the door and the shuffle of feet outside. James jerked in the direction of the door - the room momentarily tilting with such a simple spin. He might have taken a the time to sit and collect himself, but his eyes, with their newly crystal clear eyesight, feel on a body. A very _dead_ body._

_Very slowly, his muddled mind began to turn. He had been dead, simply _knew _it. The feeling becoming more concrete with each passing second. There was a cauldron, still fresh liquid in and around vials, and a dead woman with her throat cut. Had he… been resurrected? The very thing they teach you is _impossible

_His body was too tired, too new. He couldn't think, couldn't move. But he couldn't stay there with that poor woman - whoever she was. Who knew if that other woman, the one that ran, would come back? If she was responsible for the dead body, if she came back to send him somewhere he could barely recall her mentioning, what was to say what she could and would do?_

_End of Flashback_

"So I left. It wasn't… easy - almost didn't manage to. But I left." James' tone spoke of his remorse. Whether it was blame towards himself or just for the death of that unknown woman was unknown.

Dumbledore was silent as he pulled a single strip of parchment and dripped a pearl white feather tip into pitch black ink. He scribbled something down, pausing only to ask if James remembered where the house had been, to which James replied that he didn't. The elderly man nodded solemnly, before sending the message off via owl.

There was another span of silence that was eventually broken by a soft _pop_ sound. James blinked at seeing a house elf appear. He hadn't heard the headmaster summon one.

"I'm sure there are a lot of questions that you have," Dumbledore began, "but it would be a terrible thing to do anything else on a empty stomach - something of which I currently have." He rambled off a feast fit for a king, and almost as soon as the elf appeared it was gone.

"Sir, where are they?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "'They'?"

"Harry, Sirius and Remus - they're alive. Where are they? How are they?"

The eyebrow inched up just a tad. "You knew that young Harry was alive?"

James blinked and realized that it might have sounded weird for someone who had just come back from the grave to apparently know something that he or she shouldn't have. He frowned. He opened his mouth, meaning to explain, but realized that he didn't know _how_ he knew, much less how to explain it. "I… just know. Just like I feel like... I feel like things have been hard for them. What happened to my son and my friends?" There was now an audible note of pleading in his still scratchy voice.

Before the headmaster could start what was sure to be a long and very tiring tale of the events of the last fourteen years, the house elf from mere moments before reappeared with trays and trays full of warm steaming foods. James stared at the vast array and realized - as his stomach realized - that he hadn't eaten a single thing in, well, _years_. He fought for a moment between the concern of a devoted father and friend, and the basic instinct to consume.

"Since breakfast has arrived, let's begin the explanations." Dumbledore said, almost as if he were negotiating between two warring legions. Both sides of James called a truce and he snagged the closest thing to him. As the headmaster explained the happenings over the last decade or so, James made for a good audience, being properly aghast and outraged - and choking on his drink - at Sirius' wrongful imprisonment as well as Harry's residence with the Dursley's - even with the understanding of _why_ it had to have been done, to being overly proud at his son's achievements over the last four years. The boy may not have been a prankster like his dear old dad, but he certainly got into enough messes to make up for it!

"Do you think I could see him?" James asked at the end of the several hours worth of stories. The headmaster considered the request. It was only natural that James would want to see his son, but he was worried about the overall effect this would have. There were a lot of things to take into consideration before he could allow the younger man to go and openly reveal his return to the land of the living. There was still the unanswered question of why he was brought back and who engineered the whole thing.

"I think that--"

Dumbledore was cut off as rather unexpectantly a large tawny owl flew in through the window and landed on his desk. The headmaster took the letter from the eager animal. James watched curiously as the man's face slowly darkened and he stood. "Sir?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to put this meeting on hold." He handed the paper to James as he walked for the door. The paper was a court summonsing. James' eyes widened.

"Harry has been arrested."

_To be continued…_

oOoOoOo

Shout out to my reviewers (are we even allowed to do these anymore? I haven't read the rules in ages and who knows what they said we can't do anymore...):

_Marauder3Moony_: O.o Wow, I didn't think anyone would forgive me for abandoning Version 1. I'm glad I still have another supporter other than the ever faithful B. And don't worry, I don't plan to abandon it this time, but it may take a while to get the chaps out. Hope you like this version!

_pandas rule the world_: Glad you're happy.

_Crysania Fay_: My ever faithful B, where would I be without you? (insert witty comment I know that's coming from B here) Hope you liked this chapter too and the betaing wasn't too hard!

_greeneyes_: oO; I'd like to see that too. Lol, maybe we'll see in the next chapter.

_cutieme!_: ...I can try...

_SondiDondi_: Thank you for the offer, but the only reason I chose Russian is because I kind of liked how it looked. I tried it in the other languages, but it didn't have the same appeal. Thanks again for the offer! Hope you liked this part.

_JPotter_: Hope you liked this part!

Until next time, everyone! Ja ne!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: I honestly have no excuse for why this is so late. Just more of my laziness. This was going to be one REALLY long chapter, with much more in it, but I decided to end it where it did, so I can get a new chapter out. The next chapter will pick up right where this one left off, unlike this one and the last two chapters, which have way too many flashbacks. xp;;

**Warnings**: None.

**Spoilers**: for book 5, but I'm sure all people reading this have read Book 5, lol.

**Disclaimer**: I no more own the series than I did the last time.

Also, thank you to PrinceTroll for betaing. (Crysania Fay is going to kill me... Sorry B! ;.;)

o.O.o.O.o

_**Chapter Two: Number 12 Grimmauld Place**_

James stared at the rather shabby door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He took in the filthy walls and the grim covered windows. It was hard to believe that this was the childhood home of his once best friend, Sirius Black. Long since had it been that he had discovered, much by accident, that Sirius was a traitor in his own home; a shunned outcast.

The resurrected man pulled a wand - a temporary one, until his own could be exhumed from his grave; good for just a few spells - and paused before it could tap the door. _"Be wary of Sirius, James. Many things have changed over the last fourteen years,"_ Dumbledore's warning came floating back to the front of his mind. It had prompted the immediate worried question, _"Changed, sir?"_ But the headmaster wouldn't illiterate any further. It only worried the man even more. What could have happened to his friend that it would prompt such a warning from Albus Dumbledore?

"I won't find out anything standing around," he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath, James followed the instructions to the letter and before he knew it, he was standing in a rather neglected entrance room. With its peeling wallpaper, dusty threadbare carpet, and cobweb-covered chandeliers he felt like he had just walked into one of those muggle-haunted houses. It was almost... creepy.

"Hello?" he called out into the musty air. The silence was unnerving, and for a moment he feared that he might have arrived before Dumbledore's message could have (He still wasn't sure _how_ the man had sent it. All he had done was assure the marauder that it would get to the safe house before he did.).

His fear was misplaced, because at that very moment a thin, longhaired man came skidding around the corner. The man's face looked expectant, and hopeful, but as his eyes feel on James, his expression instantly dropped into something unreadable. James almost felt like he had just watched the shutters to a house snap shut and there was no way to see what lay within. The man - if he would just step out of the darkness at the end of the hall, the resurrected man was sure he would be able to identify him - stared at him with an unreadable expression.

And then, he launched himself at James.

James cried out, but had nowhere to go except backwards into the door. He didn't even have time to reach for the knob as he was suddenly slammed into the door. The temporary wand toppled out of his hand, only to be snatched up before it was even completely out of his hand, and the tip dug into his throat painfully.

"_Get out of that illusion_." a voice, presumably his attackers', hissed, digging the wand deeper into James throat almost choking him. "_Get out of it, or I'll kill you!_"

James pressed himself to the door, and was dismayed when the wand followed him like a vicious dog ready to tear his throat out with one wrong move. "Temp... orary... wands... can't... kill..." He locked eyes with his attacker, and all urge to fight fled. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he couldn't believe who he was looking at. "...Siri...us?"

"_Shut up!_"

James' peripheral view caught a small glow from the wand, and felt a warm feeling spread through his body. It passed, seemingly not doing a thing. Perhaps it was just this that caused Sirius to discard the wand and press his forearm into his throat. James' desire to struggle came back ten fold with the cut off of his air supply. He jerked and pushed against the man with all the strength he could muster. Sirius was thin, thinner than James had ever known him to be, and had all the appearance of a bum, but he had size and something beyond fury to fuel his strength. James didn't stand a chance.

_I'm going to die - again! This time at the hands of my best friend..._

Life was a cruel irony, indeed.

Just as he began to loose consciousness, both men heard, "SIRIUS! What are you doing!"

Sirius twisted around to look over his shoulder. James still couldn't escape his once friend's iron grip, but the new position allowed the man to draw a much-needed breath. He tried to look over Sirius shoulder as well, but the taller man was perfectly positioned to perfectly hide the person from view. Still, he could recognize that voice anywhere. It was tired, wary, and older, but he recognized it. _Moony?_

"Look at him!" Sirius had been shouting as James struggled to catch up with the conversation. "How can you let this _imposter_ keep wearing James' face?" James couldn't see Remus' expression, but he could see Sirius'. There was anger, and not just directed at the 'imposter' either. It seemed to be directed at _everything_, even the very room they stood in. Also, lying under the anger was pain, covered so neatly by the anger that perhaps it was only by knowing Sirius for as long as he had, that he could even catch a glimpse of it.

Remus was responding, and the sound of his footsteps drew nearer. "Sirius, let him go. Dumbledore explained that he was coming, the note's in the kitchen." As the man drew closer, he stepped into James' view. The once dead man was amazed how much _older_ his childhood friend was. He knew that fourteen years had passed, but surely it couldn't account for _that_ much aging, ...could it?

"Dumbledore is a _fool_. James is _dead_!_ I saw his body myself_!" Sirius turned back to James, his eyes almost black with fury. James' eyes saddened. He hadn't thought what had happened to his other body - he knew, instinctively, the one he presided in wasn't his first (his real?) one - but he had never considered that his friends had seen it. They must have, he thought to himself. Surely they would have seen it at the funeral.

Remus shook his head, his face as emotionless as Sirius' had been earlier. James watched him warily. If he didn't know the man better, he would have half expected him to throw himself at him as well. "Let him fuck up first. Then we'll decide to what to do with him."

Any hope that Remus might have believed Dumbledore took wing and flew out the dirty window. Though, James did suppose he might have felt the same, had their roles been reversed. Sirius held still for a moment, an internal battle raging visibly in his eyes, before he slowly released him and stepped back. James didn't even realize he had been standing on tippy-toe until he was able to step away from the door.

He rubbed his throat, and leaned against the door to regain his breath. For the moment, he could only watch the two and the wand Remus had produced that was pointing at him. It was their move.

"What did you say to Dumbledore to convince him?" Remus asked. There was an almost curiosity in the man's voice, but it was small enough to make James question if it was really there.

James spoke around a wince, "He asked who the secret keeper was. I said it was Peter." He pondered, for the first time, the fact that Dumbledore had already known this fact. There was only one explanation that he could think of. "You told him." He said this statement-rather-than-a-question comment to Sirius. The man didn't move, but something flickered on his face. Surprise, perhaps?

But neither of the men was ready to completely believe him just yet. "Now prove it to us," Remus said, his voice curiously steady in face of what was slowly becoming a reality to the two men. James nodded, his mind trying to come up with something, yet coming back to the same foolproof thing. "Remus, you're Moony, nicknamed that because you change into a werewolf." Remus' emotionless mask visibly cracked, giving way to dawning.

"Sirius, Padfoot, still the ever loyal dog?" James grinned at the other man, who, like Remus, was unable to keep a straight face. He looked ready to leap at James again, something the latter fervently hoped he wouldn't. "Peter, Wormtail, the _rat_," amazing how he turned the last word into a metaphor as much the name of the animal. "And myself, Prongs, the stag."

He was winning them over, he could see it. He had one last card up his sleeve, he could just hope it would be enough.

Reaching into himself, James searched for the magic that allowed him to make the change he needed. His mind, his very soul, remembered what it took, but the body had never done it. It was painful, this time - he didn't have the time to train the body to deal with such a change - but he managed it. With a small pop, in James' place stood a rather magnificent Stag. It's healthy fur seemed dulled by the lack of light, but the one candle lighting the room caused the light to dance in the creature's eyes to match him amusement.

No one could replicate an animagus form. It was too complicated a piece of magic to truly understand enough to even _try_ to do so. The doubt completely vanished from Remus, although some still lingered within Sirius.

James didn't notice either as he slowly sank to his feet, his mind filled with thoughts that a human being would never think. He shook his head, his semi-large antlers causing a small wind in the hallway as they moved, but they persisted. He may have remembered the first time he'd triumphed over the animal's instincts, however the body didn't. _I... have to... change back..._

It was hard, harder than it should have been. There was even some pain involved, but he managed to calm the beast's mind enough to remember his humanity. With a second _pop_, James Potter stood in place of the stag.

James had but a moment to ponder why the transformation he must have done hundreds of times would be _painful_ and had left him so exhausted, before he was nearly knocked over a second time. It took another moment to realize that Remus was hugging him.

"I don't know how you did it," Remus murmured. "But, _god_ it's good to see you." There were no words to describe the emotions James heard in the werewolf's voice. Joy; relief; happiness; it was all those and much, much, more.

"Remus... breathing becoming an issue..." The resurrected man chocked.

Remus blinked, and seemed to notice he was all but breaking the poor man's back. He sprung back, albeit reluctantly. "Oh! Sorry! I... just..." He blushed.

James laughed and patted the visibly older man's shoulder. "Haha, I might have done the same." He glanced at Sirius over Remus' shoulder, not sure if he wanted the same treatment from the almost frail looking man, or if he didn't. When Sirius merely turned away and headed back into the recesses of the house, James decided that perhaps it was for the best.

James was ushered into what appeared to be the living room. The dog animagus was already in there, silently sitting in a moth eaten armchair. He hardly had a chance to really look around before he was sitting on an equally mistreated sofa, and Remus was sitting across from him.

He sighed, despite himself. He knew they wanted to know the story. How _had_ James Potter managed to defy _every law of nature _and return from the dead?

He really wished _he _knew.

Nonetheless, he told them what he did know, from the first few moments, to the strange woman, to the trip to Hogwarts and the conversation with Dumbledore, to, finally, the arrival at Grimmauld Place. As his recount came to an end, Remus had a thoughtful look on his face. Sirius still looked as ticked as he had from the moment James had touched the topic of Harry's arrest. (_"No, Sirius," Remus had soothed, "Barging into the ministry - as pleasing as it would be - will not help Harry."_)

"Hmm, I'll have to see what I can find on the subject," Remus said finally. "I've never honestly looked into it, what with thinking it was impossible..." He looked at James as if he was expecting him to disappear and this all be a dream. "But it will have to wait. Dumbledore has requested that I and a few other Aurors investigate a possible Dementor attack."

"A Dementor attack?" James shuddered. Did they run free in this time? He didn't like the idea, especially if they were attacking people.

Remus rose from his seat and approached a table. "It was why Harry was arrested." He frowned. "Although 'arrested' is kind of a strong term for it..."

2 and 2 made 5 in James' mind, and he nearly leapt out of his seat. "Wait! Harry was _attacked by Dementors_ and they arrested him!"

"_Possibly_," Remus corrected without thinking. A bitter smile tugged at his lips at James' exclamation. "Yes."

He left the room without another word on the matter. If James could still read the werewolf's moods, he would say the man was pissed. James rounded on Sirius. "OK, what the _hell_ is going on? Why is Harry being attacked by _Dementors_? Why is the Order's headquarters in an _enemy's_ house? _And why the hell is Dumbledore warning me about you!_" He said the last part in an almost frustrated yell as all the questions playing ping pong in his mind finally got the best of him. And James had all the subtlety of bull in a china shop.

The dark haired man blinked up at him darkly. He muttered something James couldn't hear, before he sighed in a similar way that James had before explaining the seemingly unexplainable. "Sit down." He muttered, resignedly. "Fourteen years is a lot of time to cover."

o.O.o.O.o

Shout outs to the reviewers:

_Marauder3Moody:_ Be nice to Severus? Awww, I have to tease a bit! He was supposed to be in the last chapter even, but it kind of didn't happen. Maybe in the next one. He'll show up soon, and I promise not to be too mean.

_secretlycharmed13:_ As Remus put it: "although 'arrested' is kind of a strong term for it..."

_Mandalen:_ I hope you continue to think that. I almost degraded to the first stories level, but I couldn't seem to get it to go any other way. -sigh- And I was so in the mood to write...

_Prince Troll:_ ...I give you special stories and everything and you still want more? Will you ever be pleased? insert overdramatic wailing Note: this last sentence was all just teasing. I didn't mean it anymore than you meant it, lol. (You didn't mean it, didn't you? o.O;;)

_panda rule the world:_ (Wouldn't it be cool if pandas DID rule the world. Although we might be the endangered species then...) ...

_cuteidanix:_ Just did.

_ARandomPerson:_ lol, I didn't look at it like that. Glad it amused you. Hope you liked this chapter.

_DawnRising_: Sorry for the lateness. I'm as lazy as the rest. -bops head-


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